


croma week 2019 submissions

by R3N41SS4NC3



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: CroMa, Crona is a worried gay mess, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Other, and being a miester is a dangerous business, cromaka, i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R3N41SS4NC3/pseuds/R3N41SS4NC3
Summary: my submissions for cromaweek2019. decided to compile them all into the same fic bc they're all super short.





	1. how to keep your reckless, god-punching girlfriend safe

**Author's Note:**

> Maka gets hurt on a mission and Crona has to deal with feelings of guilt and inadequacy because they can't keep her safe.
> 
> Written for day 1 of Croma week 2019: safe

“She got a bit hurt, so Nygus is helping her out, but she should…”

Crona doesn’t hear the rest of Soul’s words, their ears filling with static. They miss Soul’s informal retelling of what happened on the mission as Crona’s mind is eroded by a river of worst-case scenarios and self-loathing. Crona had waited patiently for Maka and Soul to return from their most recent mission; they worried about the pair of them but were able to push their doubts away because it felt wrong to not believe fully in Maka, to even think about her getting hurt or failing the mission; she so strong and courageous and perfect, nothing should be able to harm her. And so, when Crona heard about their return and rushed to wait outside the Death Room, they expected to be greeted by a satisfied and happy team. Instead, only Soul exited the Death Room, looking more than a bit displeased, as if he had been admonished by the eternal god of death. Crona asked what happened, if Maka was still talking to Lord Death, and he delivered the news that she had been injured.

__I should have protected her__ , they think. __She shouldn’t be hurt; it’s all my fault.__

“I have to go.” Crona interrupts Soul, then turns away and rushes off in the direction of the nurse’s room, earning an unseen look of confusion and annoyance from Soul. He wanders off to catch up with his other friends, muttering about how uncool that was. If Crona had heard him, they would have shouted an apology back to him, but they didn’t so they didn’t, and instead continue their mad dash to the medical office, passing by and dodging around unfortunate pedestrians.

They crash into the open door frame to brake. They know that reckless maneuver will result in a nasty bruise later, but they can’t even acknowledge it enough to care, not with the terrible scene before them: Maka laying in one of the twin hospital beds, her leg resting in a hammock from the ceiling, hidden beneath thick wrappings of bandages. A few other bandages dot her exposed arms and face, summoning concern that is all but eclipsed by her swaddled leg. Is it twisted? Broken? Will she ever walk again?! Uncertainty breeds paranoia.

“Crona, hey,” Maka calls to them with a smile, happy as always to see them despite her (probably grievous) injuries. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you outside the Death Room like usual, but Nurse Nygus has me stuck in this dumb bed for now.”

They just don’t understand how she can be so carefree and relaxed. She’s hurt and its their fault and she isn’t saying anything about it; she’s not blaming Crona for her pain even though they should have been there to protect her, to keep her safe from harm, to kill . She is their most precious person and they let something hurt her; its unforgivable, shameful, disgusting. If something were to take her away from them… they don’t know what they would do. They can __never__ let this happen again. In that moment, they renew their vow to protect her, to keep her safe, to kill all who would dare to hurt her. They won’t let anyone take her away from them.

“I’m sorry,” they blurt out, still leaning against the door frame, their eyes agape with worry and flitting about the room, mouth drawn down in a guilty frown.

“What? What are you sorry for?” Maka asks, incredulous.

“It’s all my fault.” Their voice is a strained whine, stressed and hard to make out over the hum of the overworked AC, as they slowly, cautiously approach Maka’s bedside, their eyes unable to hold contact for more than a moment, as if fearful that she might crumble beneath too much pressure. “I should have been there. I should have protected you.”

“Protect me?” Maka’s face morphs into an uncomfortable pout, the same one she often wears when dealing with Soul’s obtuseness. “I can take care of myself, you know; I’m not a helpless little girl who needs someone to protect her all the time.”

Crona freezes. Is Maka mad? Did they offend her? Crona doesn’t understand; isn’t it nice to be protected, to have someone willing to do anything for you? Crona was happy when she promised to take care of them, so why isn’t she? Did they say it wrong? They have to try and fix it, to make her understand.

“N-no, that’s not, I mean, I didn’t mean it like that. I just- I meant that, um, I don’t like, or, um, no, I don’t want you to - no that’s not right…” They search for the right words, but they don’t come and instead they fumble and stutter and trip over their words like they always do when they’re nervous. Mercifully, Crona is saved from their vocal stumbling by a warm hand landing on their forearm. They quiet, then look up at Maka’s mildly abashed face.

“Hey, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Soul was on my case the whole drive back and I guess I’m kind of on edge still. Sorry.”

She’s not mad?

Duh, of course she’s not mad, it’s Maka; she’s too understanding to actually get mad. Crona relaxes.

“But I’m a miester," she says, "and you can’t always protect me. I’m going to get sent on dangerous missions and there’s a chance that I’ll get hurt. That’s the job. You can’t keep me from doing what I love.”

Crona’s spirits fall. She’s right, of course. What would they even do to keep her away from danger? Make her quit her job, bury all her hard work and ambition? They could never hope to be so selfish.

“But,” she begins again, “I wouldn’t mind if you helped take care of me when I do get like this.” She gestures vaguely toward her bandaged leg. “What do you say?”

Crona’s spirits, lowered by the reality of not being able to keep their beloved safe, rise in an ocean’s swell at the prospect of helping her recover. That’s almost just as good, and much nicer anyway.

They nod, then ask if she wants anything.


	2. appreciating your local enby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my submission for day 2 of croma week 2019: little surprises.
> 
> Maka gives Crona a strange gift and it's significance is soon revealed.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” Maka instructs.

Crona, amused and confused, does as she says, trusting that she won’t take advantage of the lowering of their guard. A small weight settles onto their open palm, thin and long and winding. They don’t have long to wonder what it could be before Maka tells them they can open their eyes again, and, when they do, they’re greeted by a curious sight: an odd charm attached to a fragile, decorative chain. Crona brings it closer to their face to study the charm more closely; it is half of a soul, split by a purposefully jagged line with an unintelligible scramble of letters: ****BE**** , ****FRI**** , ****FORE****. It’s made of stainless steel - the sword fighter checks with a quick bite - and seems fairly worthless, monetarily speaking. They wonder why Maka’s given this to them; their confusion must show, as Maka speaks up to explain.

“It’s a necklace. You know, like jewelry. For you neck.” She sounds nervous, and Crona isn’t sure why. “I figure, well, it’s been six months since you came to the DWMA, since we became friends, and I wanted to get you something. It’s not much but…” She shrugs.

It is then that it hits Crona; this is a gift. Maka just gave Crona a gift. Their first instinct is to give it back; after all, they can’t possibly deserve something like this. She says that its not much, but that simply can’t be true; Maka took the time to look for and choose this out for them, and that means it more precious than all the gold in the world. So, they push down their usual self-depreciation and try to accept the gift with grace and aplomb. Even if the pendant doesn’t make much sense.

“Thank you, Maka. I really love it.”

“Really?” Maka’s eyes light up with relief and joy, as if she was anxious that they wouldn’t like it. What a silly thing to worry about. “I’m so glad. Here, let me help you put it on.”

She takes the necklace out of their still-open palm and motions for them to turn around. They squat a little once she’s behind them to give her an easier time. Their hair is pushed to the side before the chain is draped across their neck. Soft, steady hands brush Crona’s neck as the blonde miester secures the clasp, lingering for perhaps a moment too long after the job is finished, not that Crona is complaining; as far as they’re concerned, any contact with Maka is more than welcome.

Their hand reaches for the pendant, feeling it between their fingers, before Crona spins back around to face Maka, whose eyes smile as they study the delicate chain hanging from their neck. Eventually, she locks eyes with them, still smiling, before reaching into the neckline of her shirt and pulling out a matching necklace of her own.

“Did you get two of the same necklace?” Crona asks incredulously before they can think not too.

She smiles and answers, “not quite. Here.” She holds out her pendant so that the jagged edges face Crona. “Hold yours out like this too.” They do as she instructs, and she brings the two together; they fit perfectly together, forming a complete soul. The lettering matches up too, and Crona realizes that she didn’t give them a copy of the one she’s wearing, but the other half of a whole.

****BEST FRIENDS FOREVER** **


	3. the reemergence of fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> submission for day 3 of croma week 2019: soulmates.
> 
> Maka thinks on how Crona has evaded all of her carefully laid defenses and become her most important person

Maka can’t say she’s ever really believed in true love, or soulmates, or the like: not since she was a young girl. Once upon a time, she imagined meeting her Prinxe Charming and being swept off her feet by their perfect suaveness and dashing good looks, then being carried off to live in a castle with an impossibly expansive library and an endless, perfectly manicured garden: a fairy tale.

That fantasy didn’t survive long into her childhood. A nasty, prolonged divorce helped ensure it’s permanent burial. Her papa showed her what men are truly like: undependable, conniving, despicable, selfish,cheating liars. She doesnt understand why it took her mama so long to finally leave him, but when she did, Maka had never been prouder. Maka vowed many times over those long years that she would never open her heart to a man, that she would never let someone hurt her like that; she fancies herself smart enough to learn from others’ mistakes.

But, looking at the face of her datemate, relaxed and comfortable and open from sleep, she feels the feelings behind those old, childhood fantasies come rushing back. It feels odd that this strange, timid, beautiful person could be her Prinxe Charming; they tried to kill her when they first met - twice! - but she can’t hold that against them, not with what she knows, not with how much they mean to her. Despite all her carefully laid defenses, Crona found a way into her heart. Or rather, she couldn’t resist inviting them in forever.

In this moment, she can believe in soulmates again. 


	4. the softness of scent invites love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 4: softness
> 
> back to cuddles bc cuddling is important

She smells like strawberries, a clean scent from her bodywash. She just got back from training with Soul, so it makes sense that she’d smell so nice after her shower. They take another whiff, breathing in deeply from next to her neck, trying to fill their nose so full of her essence that they’ll never smell anything else again. They’d be content to fill all of their senses with nothing but Maka, to know only her and ignore all the pain and hate in the world. 

Crona snuggles in closer, pressing more of their skin - clothed and un - against her, doing their best to swallow her whole with just their arms and legs. She reciprocates, and they’re tangled togtether like two octopuses in a prolonged game of twister. Crona’s never had this much contact with anyone else: only Maka. It’s nice. It’s really nice. Cuddling with Maka is the best thing they could have ever imagined; she’s so soft and warm and clean. They feel safe and whole during times like this, when the world around them is calm and kind.


	5. sometimes, life is the greatest storybook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 5: storybook
> 
> Maka watches Crona tell a story to their daughter

“Once upon a time, there was a magical princess…”

Maka watches the scene from the doorway, the liminal space between her daughter’s room and the hall, not wanting to interrupt Karin’s bedtime story-time with Crona. The pair of them do this every night. It started when Karin was a baby, too young to remember or even understand the words out of Crona’s mouth, but they had latched onto the idea of story-time before bed with a strange intensity (Crona read it in a parenting book while the pair of them were planning for a child) and Maka saw no reason to discourage it. And so, for the last five years, they read stories of dragons and royalty, of villages and heroes, of courage and accomplishment.

The sight always brings a smile to Maka’s face that seems to stick around the rest of the night. When she married Crona, she knew they would be a good spouse, but, to be completely honest, she had doubts about their abilities as a parent. It’s nice to be proven wrong. They took to the role with gusto, devouring books on the matter, attending workshops to learn skills, and taking classes on child psychology and development. When Maka asked them why they were taking this so seriously, why they were throwing their entire self into the idea of raising children, they said, “I don’t want to mess our child up. I don’t want to be like Medusa.”

Maka always finds herself falling a little bit more in love with Crona - when they get her an unexpected, perfect gift, when they wake her up with breakfast, when they read her their poetry, when they look at her like she’s the only person in the world - but she felt like she fell over herself into love all over again when they said that. Instead of being selfishly bitter, they use their unique experiences and perspective to improve themself and bring good into the world. Every time she thinks about that conversation, she grows fonder of the person she married.

“...and when the prince finally found the princess, after climbing the tower and defeating the dragon, he proposes. She says, ‘why should I marry you? You broke into my home, attacked my best friend, and destroyed my bedroom door. I should have you arrested.’ As the prince glubbed like a fish, thinking of an answer…”

Maka especially loves how Crona will make up their own stories to tell their daughter when they can’t find any good, new ones. Every few months, when they go out in search of new story books, they end up ranting about how so many of them teach bad lessons (when a friend gave Karin a copy of the __The Giving Tree__ for Christmas, Crona went off in that special way only they can, without a raised voice or an insult, but that still ends up making you feel like you just kicked a puppy. The friend apologized to Karin and took back the book with the promise to take her to the bookstore soon to get a different one.). So, Crona started telling original stories that Maka eventually convinced them to write down. Even if they don’t want to try to publish, she’s sure that Karin will someday appreciate physical copies of her childhood stories. Also, it means that Karin can stop complaining about details changing, like the color of a door, or the names of siblings. Plus, Crona says its inspired some of their professional writing, so its a win-win-win.

“...so the brave and cunning witch found her princess and freed her from the smelly jail cell. They rushed past the guards, hopped onto her horse, and rode faster than the wind, spurred on by magic. They escaped the jealous prince’s guard and found a small village where they happily lived out the rest of their days. The End.”

Crona stands up from their bedside chair and turns off the lamp before tucking in their already snoozing child. Maka watches them kiss her forehead before they turn to leave, quiet surprise showing on their face; they must not have noticed her standing here. Surprise turns to pleasure and they gently corral their wife into the hall to close the door. Once the two of them are a safe distance from their daughter’s room, Maka rises up on her tip toes and kisses Crona on the lips. She grins through the kiss when their arms wrap around her waist. They stay like this for a long moment before Maka breaks the kiss and falls back to Earth to say, “you’re a really good parent. I love you.”


	6. the intimacy of decadence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cromaweek2019: tasty treats
> 
> Crona and Maka feed each other chocolates between kisses
> 
> I'm testing out using yo/yom/yos as a singular genderless pronoun

Crona closes their eyes to let the rich, decadent flavor of the chocolate wash over yos tongue and coat yos mouth. Yo chews slowly to savor the sweet smoothness of the treat, swallowing only when yo’ve enjoyed all they can. The taste lingers, subtle yet plentiful, and yo opens yos eyes to look at the gorgeous woman feeding yom. Her long, blonde hair is down today, a compliment to her light green dress; it matches her eyes.

Crona picks up a Valentine’s Day chocolate from the rapidly emptying box set between the young lovers and brings it to Maka’s lips. Yo watches as she bites into it, taking it into her mouth, her lips brushing against yos fingertips, sending electric shivers through yos arm and into yos brain. Her lips are so soft. So much of Maka is softer than it has any right being, given her profession, but Crona isn’t complaining in the least; it matches her perfectly gentle, caring demeanor that yo’s sure yo’d find it strange if she were made of sharp angles and hard muscle.

The pinkette watches Maka’s eyes slip shut as she savors the decadence. Pleasure plays out across her face and Crona takes it all in, trying to remember every detail of her face, stuffing as much as yo can into the box in yos head labeled “Maka;” its always almost fit to burst. Grey blush colors yos face when Maka’s tongue flashes across her lips, lapping up any remnants of cocoa, and Crona has the strongest urge to kiss her. Surely that is okay, right? They’ve been together for months, and they’ve kissed each other plenty of times, and she’s liked it when yo initiated, so it should be okay?

With less hesitance than yos had before (yo’s astounded by how much more comfortable yo is nowadays), Crona closes the distance between them and gently pushes yos lips against hers; Maka jumps slightly, surprised by the kiss, before she melts into it with a happy hum; Crona tastes the chocolate on her warm, plump lips and thinks that this might be the greatest moment in all of human history. They break with a mutual smile, warm, kind, and loving, and they both feel that special, intense love that only young lovers can feel, where only the person in front of you is real, where you feel that your love for the other person can stand through anything, that it can take over the world.

Maka takes another chocolate from the box and holds it out for Crona and they repeat until the box is empty and the day of love is done.


End file.
